


heaven.

by dimpleskyun (orphan_account)



Series: second time around [1]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fist Fights, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 18:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17391467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/dimpleskyun
Summary: Jooheon fights the world. Kihyun fights himself.They meet at 16, on the school's basketball court, both with a purple eye and anger in their hearts.(Prequel tofor him.)





	1. 1. prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so after a lot of thinking i decided to write kiheon's story! i had a vague idea of what their relationship was like when i wrote [for him.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13246872/chapters/30302259), but not this detailed so i did give the characters a lot more backstory than i first had in mind lmao 
> 
> if you've read [for him.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13246872/chapters/30302259) then i must warn you, this one is a Lot angstier! 
> 
> but anygay, ENJOY!!💛

Family houses line up both sides of the road. They're bathed in the orange, yellow light of the afternoon sun; a soft breeze sweeps through the leaves of the trees standing guard in the houses’ front gardens (some cusps peek out from behind the left side houses’ rooftops, where a forest stretches out). The trees are picturesquely green, standing out starkly against the clear blue sky. Jooheon pedals down the street, not all too fast but his hair blows around his head anyway, his fringe is tickling his forehead softly. It's a tranquil moment. No one else is on the road. Only Jooheon.

It isn't any kind of special day, just a regular Tuesday in the middle of April, but to Jooheon it is a day he'll never forget. His heart is so full of love and adoration—all directed to one single subject. Yoo Kihyun. But it is as well the day Jooheon got his heart broken for the first time in his life. Yoo Kihyun being the responsible one for that, too.

A calm and serene smile graces Jooheon's face as he takes in the all too familiar neighbourhood; it's odd for it looks so different now.  He never noticed that the blinds of the houses are painted a faded green, or that more than one house is painted a creamy beige (complemented beautifully and artfully by the sun's light), or that the trees standing guard are oaks. He's seen this neighbourhood so many times but it feels as if this is the first time ever he is biking through it. Everything feels and looks and smells differently, maybe because Jooheon took a life changing decision—a _risk_. Nothing will ever be the same from that moment on.

His heart got broken by the only boy he ever loved. Not just broken in the sense that his love wasn't reciprocated; Kihyun took his heart and shattered it into pieces. ( _I'll never feel something like that for another boy, even less someone like you._ The words resonate painfully in Jooheon's mind.) Yet Jooheon still feels an overwhelming and overflowing love directed at the older boy. Unjustified so. Jooheon keeps smiling even as the tears slide down his cheeks to the corners of his mouth; even as his vision turns blurry and his chest constricts; his heart heavy all of a sudden.

That blurred line that once allowed his initial hate—and distrust—towards Kihyun, when they first met almost two years ago, turn into love as time progressed is solidifying again, and Jooheon doesn't know anymore which side he is standing on.

The bitterness of the situation twists and turns his stomach—it lies heavy on his tongue; but the sweetness of having experienced the privilege of falling in love with Kihyun still hangs in the spring air around him. Jooheon halts his bike then, placing his right foot on the concrete, and turns around to look back to where he came from. He doesn't want to say goodbye yet—he doesn't want to let Kihyun go, but the older boy is leaving for university soon again, his spring break coming to an end. Plus his words were harsh when Jooheon handed him his heart (too harsh even for someone like Kihyun). He should forget him, move on as quickly as possible. But Jooheon knows these words were a mask, a lie Kihyun likes to hide behind because is _scared,_ and Jooheon gets it.

He just wishes Kihyun would have trusted him more—enough for Kihyun to hand over his own heart to Jooheon. Because Jooheon _knows,_ he has seen his own adoration and love mirrored in Kihyun's eyes when he looked back at Jooheon all those times, a smile gracing his features that crinkled up the corners of his eyes.

But it's too late now. Jooheon turns his head towards the horizon in front of him again and reassumes his biking, accompanied only by the rustling of the leaves in the soft breeze that blows through the picturesque neighbourhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhh so it starts!! im rlly excited for this story, i hope youll like it just as much uwu 
> 
> love you!!💛


	2. 2. underwater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading!!🤙 
> 
> ps: this fic is not beta'd so all mistakes are mine hh

The calendar marks the day October 23rd, a Wednesday, and the up until now blue sky is covered with a thick layer of clouds—like a grey wall of cement. Underneath, the sky mirrors itself in a puddle of rain that formed during the downpour that morning; an Adidas sneaker steps on the puddle, creating movement in the before still water, and the reflection of the sky distorts. The boy who the sneaker belongs to wears black basketball shorts and the school's team shirt—it's black with yellow lines on it. The ball that the team had played with rolled away minutes ago when the fight escalated, and now it lies by the edge of the basketball court, together with all the bystanders.

The boy clenches his fists and takes another step forward; there's no fear in him, just anger. An incredibly overwhelming anger that surrounds him, like mist hanging low around his figure. The other boy standing across him wears a similar kind of anger in his heart. It's not the first time they've thrown jabs and insults at each other, but until now they ignored it—like everyone else did whenever their quarrels started in two weeks they've known one another. This time it was different, though—this time both boys reacted differently. This time they couldn't hide the pain and anger deeply rooted inside of them, and it exploded like a firework after the first few words that were exchanged, taking everyone else by surprise.

Jooheon swings his fist, taking another step towards Kihyun, and punches the older boy right in his jaw; it doesn't land as neatly as his first couple of swings, but the impact still happens and Kihyun lets out a groan of pain, his hand coming up to rub his chin. They looks very alike, with their matching purple eyes, clenched jaws and fists, tousled and wet hair, red knuckles, despair in the looks they shoot each other. It's a painful fight to watch, but none of their team mates move because they're rooted to their spots; not a single wish to get their coach and put an end to the fight in between Jooheon and Kihyun—it's been building up over the past two weeks and they're mildly excited to see who will win this.

“Come on, is _this_ all you've got?” Kihyun asks, his voice filled with spite, and spits on the ground in front of Jooheon, into the rain puddle. “Where's your promise of breaking _all_ my bones? Are you _scared_ now?”

Jooheon takes in an angry and short breath, rolling the arm he used seconds ago to land that punch on Kihyun's jaw; he smiles a frightening kind of smile, lips stretched but no emotion in his eyes. Without any warning he kicks the other boy in his shin, taking satisfaction in the way Kihyun doubles over, a surprised and high pitched yelp escaping him. Before the older boy can retaliate the shrill noise of Coach Min's whistle rings across the court, making the bystanders jump in surprise. Jooheon doesn't give it his attention, he simply keeps on looking at Kihyun, who is now kneeling in front of him and clutching his shin while he sends a nasty look at Jooheon. Jooheon can't help the superior smile that makes its way onto his face.

(Hoseok is going to kill him but it was worth it.)

“Mr Lee, Mr Yoo. To my office, _now_!” their coach yells at them; he looks angry and tired. “Everyone else, twenty laps. Then go get changed, today's practice is cut short.” A collective groan is let out at those words but the team complies. Jooheon and Kihyun follow their coach across the court towards the school's building.

No words are exchanged during the small walk, but they do exchange a short glance—both boys trying to put as much hate as possible into it, so the other understands just how inconvenient each other's existence is to one another. When they get to their coach's office, the man lets out an exasperated sigh and turns on his desk lamp before he sits down; he motions at them with his hands to take a seat as well. He rummages through his desk until he finds two yellow papers. Jooheon frowns at the color,  _detention—_ he's never had detention before, his parents won't like this. Coach Min slides one paper to each boy and puts the pen cup in the center of his desk.

“Now explain to me,” Coach Min starts, folding his hands on the table and leaning forward to look at them, “why I found you two fighting.”

There's a pregnant silence following the request. Jooheon refrains himself from glancing at Kihyun—it's hard but he has an iron will—and stares determinedly at the wall behind the coach. Kihyun doesn't say anything either. Coach Min lets out another exasperated sigh.

“Alright,” he says and leans back into his seat. “Write down your version of the events and _why_ you were fighting, and I'll submit it to the headmaster. Be assured though, that you're both receiving detention.”

Kihyun _tsks_ and Jooheon resists the urge to kick him.

“Yes, sir,” Jooheon mumbles out, then he grabs one of the pens, and gets started on the report. Kihyun moves seconds later, grabbing a pen as well.

The following minutes are filled with the sounds of quiet breathing and pens scribbling quickly and aggressively on paper. Coach Min has his watchful eyes set on them, taking in the way Lee Jooheon’s dirty blonde hair is sticking up in different directions, tangled up and dirty; there's a scratch on his cheek and his eye is swelling up; there's a cut on his lip and a bruise on his throat, but they're older injuries—not from Kihyun—and Coach Min worries. On the other hand, Yoo Kihyun looks a lot better off, just a swollen eye and a bruise on his jaw; but his cheekbones are sunken in and his skin looks pale.

It's obvious to Coach Min that their fight was no product of a rivalry in between them; it was just a mutual channel to let it out on. That anger they bring from home—from their past—had the misfortune of meeting, causing a fight to bloom in between them, making them believe that they are enemies. Maybe the best for them is to work with one another, learn their differences and similarities, and accept those. He grabs a pen himself and scribbles down some ideas for possible detentions he could give the two boys.

* * *

 

Jooheon rubs his knee furiously, there's a mild pain in it—one he hasn't quite got rid off ever since his fall two years ago—and with the cold weather the pain only increases and becomes more unpleasant; still he stands up again, moving it forward and backwards, and once he deems it to be stable again, he wobbles over to where the ball has rolled to the corner of the basketball court.

It's late in the afternoon and the sun hangs low in the sky, soon to be swallowed by the tall skyscrapers standing around the court, and a fresh breeze blows by, lifting up the colorful leaves that cover the ground on these autumn days; but Jooheon isn't bothered by any of it, it's become a habit of his to go to the court after school instead of his home. (In the past he used the school's court, but now they don't allow students to play there anymore during the afternoons.) And on days like this one, when his anger consumes him and he can't even think clearly, it's the only thing that helps him vent and calm down. Plus, it's a Friday and he has the chance to stay out as long as he likes, without his parents raising hell, since he doesn't have classes the following morning.

(And any chance to avoid his parents and home, Jooheon takes.)

He grabs the ball and lets it bounce off the floor a couple of times as he walks to stand in front of one of the hoops, then he jumps up in the air and throws it at the net, it passes through neatly—the _swoosh_ of the motion has become something of a satisfactory sound to him, something to signalize that not everything in his life is a complete failure—and before it can roll away he grabs it again to repeat the motion until he tires out, or his knee starts hurting too much.

(Eventually he leaves for home because of both.)

It's nearing midnight and the leaves crunch beneath his sneakers, it sounds multiplied in the abandoned street he walks down. He thinks about crashing at Changkyun's, but he has been doing that for the past two weeks and he's starting to feel guilty about bothering his best friend like this—even though Changkyun insists that it's alright, his parents taking in Jooheon each time as if he was their son. He could call Hoseok, but he probably is still in the dance studio with his friends. They tend to hang out late on Fridays, doing choreographies of their choice or coming up with their own. He doesn't want to be a bother.

He stops in front of his house, it looks nice from an outsider perspective. Halloween decorations already up, and there's a yellow welcoming mat with sunflowers on top that looks inviting. But Jooheon knows the truth that hides behind the red door; he bears those scars buried deep in his mind, heart, and soul. Those poisonous words his parents shout at him whenever he fails a test, whenever he says _he doesn't want a girlfriend and never will,_ when he says he wants to keep being the assistant manager of the cheerleading club their school has (and that Changkyun is a part of). The list goes on and on. Jooheon hates them for it, not only because it _hurts_ but because his younger sister, Eunji, has to deal with _that_ —at such a young age, too. She has to see how her own parents are ruining her older brother. She cries often because of it, the two of them cuddling in Jooheon's bed, tear smeared faces and heavy hearts.

Jooheon's high school years are full of his parents' rejection, and Eunji's elementary school days are full of barely being acknowledged by her parents—when she is it is to demand of her to never, _ever_ be like Jooheon.

It's sad, it's heartbreaking; but it's all Jooheon has ever known. He's glad he only has two more years of high school, then he'll be off to university. He already has plans for the following summer to visit some campuses, to apply for dorm rooms. There's a university he sometimes thinks about applying to; it's far, _far_ away from his parents; but it would be far away from where all his friends will study at, too, and Jooheon isn't sure he could leave them behind. They're too important to him. He can't leave Changkyun alone. Even if Hoseok were to be there, they’re a package deal—the three of them.

With a resigned sigh he unlocks the front door of his house and makes his way inside, silently and carefully he kicks off his sneakers before he tiptoes into the kitchen to get some water. Then he heads upstairs to his bedroom. Tiredness pulling at the seems of his mind.

* * *

 

Kihyun jiggles his leg nervously as their headmaster babbles on about _how_ anti-violence their school is, and that they have zero tolerance for students fighting on school grounds. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, as if he doesn't know this already; _no_ _school_ has tolerance for fights, this one isn't special when it comes to that. The headmaster repeating these words isn't going to stop students in the future from fighting—it certainly didn't stop Kihyun and Jooheon from doing so. He scoffs at the thought of the other boy. They met around two weeks ago, when both of them went to the school's basketball team tryouts for that season. Kihyun's dad insisted he should try it out to let go some of that energy and anger he holds, and Kihyun agreed because well, he doesn't really have anything better to do with his time—besides, it’ll look nice on his curriculum once he applies for universities during spring next year.

And then there's this _thought_ he has. That makes him feel as if he is wasting his youth away, doing nothing in his spare time except studying and homework and help his dad around the house. He recalls people always look back with nostalgia—in their eyes and heart—on their high school days, and maybe he wants it to be like that as well. He wants to be able to show off that he did _something_ , that there’s proof of him trying hard. It's dumb, but the thought that he'll be twenty-three, twenty-four, or twenty-five and there will be nothing for him to look back to; no crazy teenage stories, no first kisses or first times, no teamwork experiences… He doesn't want to look back and see a _blank_ _page_. The thought scares him.

“—you'll be cleaning out the fridges on Fridays, and take out the trash each afternoon at 4pm.” Kihyun tunes back in to the sermon their headmaster is holding. “Once classes are over at 2pm you will have around thirty minutes to eat something. I want you to head to the cafeteria straight after that and report to the head cook, Miss Park. She'll give you clothes to wear while you help her out,” she finishes her instructions, seizing up both boys in front of her with a stern look on her face. “Any questions?” she asks and they shake their heads in sync. “Alright. You have fifteen minutes to eat something. No running off. You're both eating _in here,_ in the cafeteria,” she says warningly; she glances at Jooheon, who was getting up from his seat but now is slowly sinking back down, a scowl on his face. Kihyun resists the urge to laugh at him. “Dismissed.” She nods her head at Coach Min and walks out of the cafeteria, the _click clack_ of her heels vanishing down the hallway with her.

“Boys, you heard her. There are sandwiches from the cafeteria at your disposal; starting tomorrow you can bring something from home, if you prefer that,” the coach tells them. He looks at them both, there's a demand in his eyes—he's asking of them both to behave, to not cause any more trouble. Kihyun nods his head.

“Yes, sir,” Jooheon says, curtly.

Coach Min walks out of the cafeteria as well and they're left alone, a deafening silence spreading out around them. It covers the black and white tiled floor, traveling up the creamy beige walls—paint cracks here and there—up to the white ceiling where the fluorescent lights hang and shine down on them. Kihyun glances at Jooheon, who is glaring at one of the windows and biting the inside of his cheek; he rolls his eyes before he pushes his chair away from the table, it scrapes against the floor loudly—the noise startles Jooheon out of his staring competition with the oak standing outside the cafeteria window—and stands up to walk towards the kitchen. He's starving.

Seconds later Jooheon follows him, at a safe and hesitant distance. Kihyun walks up to one of the kitchen counters, on it lie a couple of plastic wrapped sandwiches and he decides to grab himself one (chicken with bacon and salad). He leans against the counter and unwraps it slowly, avoiding any sort of eye contact with Jooheon, who takes a sandwich for himself. They eat in silence, it's awkward and uncomfortable, and Kihyun tries his hardest to not snap at Jooheon, blame him for the situation they find themselves in. After all _he_ did throw the first punch, but only because Jooheon kept throwing mumbled insults at him—taking satisfaction in the way Kihyun would glare at him—and kept smirking in that infuriating way; as if he knew something about Kihyun that Kihyun didn't even know about himself. It's annoying.

Kihyun never had a sworn enemy before, he mostly keeps to himself these days. He's one year away from graduating, and then he'll move away, start a new life at university, there's no point in friendships; or so he always thought but now, so close from leaving high school, he suddenly regrets his own isolation. _Blank page_. All he will be able to talk about is that _he had an enemy once_. That's pathetic. He came to the basketball team to make friends, experience teamwork and unity, not detention and a swollen eye.

He grimaces at his thoughts and throws away the plastic wrap. Jooheon is nearly done with his own sandwich, too; when he notices Kihyun staring at him he raises his eyebrows in a questioning way, his eyes mocking. Kihyun scoffs and walks to the back of the kitchen, where Miss Park's office is at; Jooheon trails after him. They stop in front of her door and Kihyun knocks softly on the glass of the door—the blinds are shut but he can make out someone moving—and then a tall and curvy woman opens the door, she smiles softly at them. Her black hair is tied into a bun, a few loose strands curl by the sides of her round face; her eyes are a light brown and they seem kind, black eyeliner making them pop out more. _She's_ _pretty_ , Kihyun thinks; not what he expected the school's main cook to look like.

“You must be Yoo Kihyun and Lee Jooheon,” she says and holds her door open for them to enter. “Please come in. I'll need to know your sizes so I can give you uniforms.” The three walk into her office. She sits down at her desk while both boys stand awkwardly in the small and stuffy room, there are no spare chairs. “Today you will help me clean up the ovens,” she tells them off handedly as she searches for something. Seconds later she pulls a keychain with dozens of keys from underneath a pile of papers. “Follow me,” she instructs them and walks back out of the office, down the hallway.

Twenty minutes later Kihyun and Jooheon stand in uniforms in front of one of the kitchen’s ovens and watch as Miss Park explains them how they're supposed to do the cleaning. Kihyun wrinkles his nose at all the burned pieces of food that collected at the bottom of the oven.

These will be a long four weeks of detention.

Miss Park leaves once she made sure they know what they have to do and have all the utensils they'll be needing. Kihyun crouches down next to his bucket filled with soap and hot water and dips his cleaning cloth inside, clenching his jaw as he realizes the water is a lot hotter than he initially thought. Jooheon starts working, too. They clean in complete silence, ignoring each other's presences. _It's for the best_ , Kihyun thinks; if they were to make small talk it would only end in a fight on the kitchen floor tiles, and he doesn't want any more weeks of detention. His dad was disappointed when he got the detention paper from school, sitting down with Kihyun that night to have a lengthy conversation about managing anger and ignore provocative words used to get a reaction out of him.

Kihyun tries his best to remember that conversation. Jooheon is humming softly and quietly but in the abandoned kitchen it sounds loud and annoying, and Kihyun takes a deep breath. He dips his cloth in the hot water with force, spilling some water on the floor, and moves to clean the oven's windows.

“Careful,” Jooheon starts, “I don't need you slipping and then be blamed for that, too, somehow.” He wrinkles his nose at the spilled over soapy water.

“Excuse me?” Kihyun turns his head towards the blonde boy. _Breath in and out evenly,_ he tells himself.

“ _You_ punched _me_. All I did was defend myself,” Jooheon says, all high and mighty.

“You started saying unnecessary stuff. That _punch_ was well deserved.”

They're not cleaning anymore but clutching the cloths tightly as they stare each other down. There's spite in both their expressions, fire burning bright in their hearts; it consumes and destroys them.

“How was I supposed to know that me calling you _pretty_ _boy_ would set you off like that,” Jooheon defends himself, his eyebrows are raised and there's _something_ in his eyes that Kihyun doesn't get. The anger in Jooheon's eyes seems to lessen for a second and something that seems like sympathy shoots through them. Kihyun doesn't understand.

 _Pretty_ _boy_. The words echo through Kihyun's head. He thinks back to the previous year, when he came to _The_ _Realization_. When he understood; when he cried himself to sleep; when he started to get anxious and scared nearly every single moment. When life stopped looking simple and manageable, and instead grew complicated and dangerous; a mountain now stands in front of him that he will have to climb, and even if he is at the top it still doesn't mean those around him will accept that he climbed it. _Pretty_ _boy_. The words sting and hurt, and he knows what they mean when they are thrown at him like that—it's mockery and meant to hurt him.

Kihyun swallows the knot in this throat and clutches the cloth until the palm of his hand hurts and burns, he releases all the air accumulated in his lungs through his nose. “Shut the _fuck_ up, Lee,” he mutters and turns to proceed with his task.

Jooheon stands still for a moment, staring at him, but Kihyun ignores him, then he too continues cleaning the oven. There's a shift in the atmosphere around them, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love you all! -💛


	3. 3. resemblance

**3 years ago**

Kihyun doesn't like this new town. Everything is unfamiliar and foreign, there's no place he can go to take a break from life and meditate; no place he can truly call _home_. All he has are the pictures on his camera from his hometown, he takes solace in them. But when he skips through the thousands of pictures on the device, some of his mom flash across the small display, and it hurts. The scar is still too fresh. The reason of his dad and him moving is due to his mom's passings, after all. It's so incredibly painful. He hates his camera a bit for showing him these pictures (even if he was the one to take them), they're so lively— _too lively_ —and remind him of a time that he can never have back. Nothing will bring back his mom, nothing will bring back the warmth in his dad's eyes, and nothing will heal that scar in his heart.

Kihyun hates his new town because it makes his mom's passing so much realer. Before, he could pretend she was on some business related travel and she would walk through their house's door any time; now it's not their house anymore, it's not their neighborhood anymore. There's no place Kihyun can go to to find comfort. He hates it _so_ _much_.

It's late summer, August, and school soon starts. Kihyun will have to make new friends, meet new people, and he doesn't know how to do that. He wasn't good at that in his old school; with puberty hitting him and the other boys in school, there was an obvious separation all of a sudden and Kihyun no longer fitted in. He became a loner. Now he doesn't mind it anymore, but he doesn't want to go through the bullying again. The last couple of months had been the worst, after his mom had passed away in March, suddenly the boys in his class started to say that now that she was gone he would surely become a _man_ —whatever that meant.

He hated them; still does. Their words set something unfamiliar and scary off in his mind, something he hasn't really thought about much; something he never thought to be dangerous. _But suddenly_ _it_ _was_. Suddenly the words they called him— _pretty boy_ —made more sense. He wasn't quite sure yet why; still isn't. But they do mean something deeper, something he hasn't unlocked yet, spared thoughts on yet. Now he is too terrified to do so.

Kihyun walks down the new streets in the new neighbourhood in the new town, camera in hand, set on taking new pictures and find new comfort in this place. Set on making new memories in this town that won't be as painful as those he left behind in his hometown. There's a park in front of him and he enters it, the trees above him cast shadows on the floor; where the sun shines through the leaves it creates patches on the ground. It's pretty. It's calming. He takes a picture, his first one. There are birds chiming and the leaves rustle, far away, in the distance, a car passes by. Although it's August and the sun shines warmly still, there's a fresh breeze passing by and the hairs on Kihyun's exposed arms stand up; he shivers.

At some point he comes across a football field and there's a boy there around his age, kicking a ball against a wall repeatedly. Kihyun is entranced by the movement, it's somehow calming; he snaps a picture. The shutter of the camera alarms the boy, who stops with his activity and looks up at Kihyun.

“Ah,” he lets out, cocking his head at Kihyun. Then he smiles, his eyes crinkle and turn into crescents; it's a warm smile, much like the sun above. “You're a photographer?” he asks although the reply is obvious.

“Yes,” Kihyun replies, and decides to approach the taller boy. “Is it okay that I took a picture of you?”

“Yeah, no worries.” He smiles again. “You can take more, I don't mind,” he adds, then he walks close to Kihyun and reaches out his hand. “I'm Son Hyunwoo, by the way.”

Kihyun stares at the hand warily. The words _pretty_ _boy_ echo in his head; he sees himself surrounded by the boys in his old school, taunting him. Hyunwoo's smile is warm and welcoming and nothing like _them_ ; Kihyun decides to take his hand.

“Yoo Kihyun,” he introduces himself.

Later Hyunwoo takes him to an ice cream parlor near the park. They get to know each other and Kihyun learns that Hyunwoo is older than him by a year, that he dances ever since he was nine, that he plays in the school's football team, and that he likes chocolate ice cream and strawberry milk. It feels good. It's a good, new memory.

Once he is in the new house, Kihyun prints out the picture he took of Hyunwoo in the football field and hangs it on his wall. It's full of old memories still, he hasn't really made any good ones in the past year, but this is a start he supposes.

  

“Kihyun?” Hyunwoo's voice drags him out of his memories and into the present. They're in the ice cream parlor they bonded and became friends at. It's three years later and Hyunwoo is still his friend—his _only_ friend.

It's the weekend after Halloween, sadly the 31st fell on a Thursday, and Hyunwoo decided to come the weekend after to visit Kihyun so they could hold their yearly tradition of watching trashy horror movies and stuff their bellies with candy.

“Sorry. What is it?” he asks, shaking his fringe out of his eyes, and looks up at Hyunwoo, questioningly.

“I just saw some of my old friends over there,” he says and points at a table in the far back. “I haven't seen them since I moved away to university. Is it alright if we go sit with them?” he asks and Kihyun nods, not really minding it.

It's a bad choice, though; he forgot _who_ Hyunwoo's friends were—one in particular. When they walk to the table in the far back, Kihyun shifts uncomfortably as his eyes fall on Jooheon, who looks back at him just as uncomfortably. Hoseok, a boy in the same year as Kihyun, coughs awkwardly as he senses the tension; Changkyun, Jooheon's best friend or whatever, perks up at the sight of Hyunwoo and he climbs out of his seat to hug the older—he doesn't pay Kihyun any attention.

“ _Changkyunnie,_ ” Hyunwoo says, delighted, and messes up the younger’s hair. “You've grown.”

“Don't lie to me,” Changkyun says with a pout. “I know I'm _short_ , and it seems that I won't be growing any time soon.” Kihyun relates to that, but he doesn't show any reaction. He isn't sure how to interact with them, what he is allowed to say and where he is allowed to laugh. They're not friends—they're barely acquaintances—if anything they're his enemy's friends, which means they're enemies by association. “How have you been? How's uni? Have you met any cute boys or girls?” Changkyun asks excitedly as he sits down again. Hyunwoo and Kihyun follow suit.

Kihyun tunes out most of their conversation as he focuses on his waffles with ice cream; he notices that Jooheon doesn't say much, either, and it makes him frown. Kihyun intruded in _his_ territory, not the other way around; _why_ was _he_ quiet?

 

Jooheon presses his lips together, refraining himself for the hundredth time of making a comment, it feels weird with Kihyun sitting right there, in front of him as if they are friends. Usually Jooheon would be telling some story to his friends by now or make a joke; but when Hyunwoo came to their table an hour ago, he brought Yoo Kihyun in tow—of all people—and Jooheon lost his ability to immerse himself in his friends’ banter; he feels uneasy with Kihyun there, even if the older boy isn't paying any attention to him and rather looks uncomfortable himself, smiling vaguely whenever the rest of the group laughs loudly at some joke or anecdote—not that Jooheon really catches them, his mind is too distracted and alerted.

It was supposed to be Changkyun and his _Bro Bonding_ _Day_ , where they get together and just vent about whatever is going on in their lives. At some point Hoseok joined them, and Jooheon started complaining about his detention with Kihyun, to which the oldest in the trio tried to give Jooheon some valuable advice. But then Hyunwoo appeared, who seems to be good friends with Changkyun—if the way they hugged is any indication—and with Hoseok, too—referring to each other with their dancer nicknames—and well, Kihyun—because the latter tagged along without hesitation, only realizing who Hyunwoo was about to meet when it was too late already.

Changkyun throws him worried and questioning glances occasionally, asking silently if he is _okay_ and Jooheon nods almost imperceptibly as a reply every time. _It'll be alright_ , he tells himself mentally. They can't be catching up eternally, at some point Hyunwoo and Kihyun will leave again and Jooheon can keep complaining to his friends.

“Changkyun, how's your boyfriend?” Hyunwoo asks all of a sudden. Hoseok sets down the glass he was holding abruptly, clearing his throat uncomfortably. Changkyun lets out a forced laugh.

“We broke up,” he says, voice laced with pain still. “It—It didn't go well,” he tells Hyunwoo, glancing briefly at Hoseok, whose eyes are cast downward, on the table, and his jaw is clenched. Jooheon swallows, untangling his hands to place one around Changkyun's shoulder. “Um, yeah. So,” he nervously starts and looks at Kihyun, “how did you and Hyunwoo meet?” he asks but it's clear he doesn't particularly care, he just needs a distraction. Kihyun looks startled to be addressed.

“Uh, we met three years ago. I was taking pictures in the park and snapped one of Hyunwoo playing football,” he replies. Changkyun nods, looking a bit starstruck. Maybe he _did_ care, after all. Jooheon frowns. “After that we actually came to this ice cream parlor and bonded. Or something.”

“Ah,” Changkyun lets out. “Do you still take pictures?”

“Yes.” Kihyun nods. “I thought about applying to the school’s newspaper club, they're in need of a new photographer,” he adds; then he blushes, coughing awkwardly, and hides his face behind his too long fringe. He looks abashed. Jooheon catches his eyes but Kihyun looks away too quick for Jooheon to see anything in them.

“Hyunwoo, tell us a bit about that uni life,” Hoseok demands, diverting the attention successfully; Kihyun lets out a relieved sigh. “I'm starting next year. I need to know all the dos and don’ts.”

Jooheon keeps his arm around Changkyun's shoulder as Hyunwoo rambles on about his so far university experience, and he gets lost in the storytelling, forgetting even that Kihyun sits with them at the same table, right in front of him—he doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

They’ve split up now, Changkyun and Hyunwoo going their way, the rest of the boys theirs. They might all live in the same (family) neighborhood but it’s a big one and so it happens that Jooheon, Hoseok, and Kihyun live all more or less in the same direction, a couple of street and houses apart. Kihyun lives by the forest, just like Hoseok’s parents do and for this night Hoseok spends it at theirs—he has a small room of his own more in the center of the town where the offices and the mall are situated. Jooheon lives some streets away from Kihyun—it’s around a ten minute walk.

 

Jooheon is quiet as the three of them walk down the familiar streets, the sky already darkening due to the time change recently, but he pays attention to the other boys’ conversation. It feels odd to him how Kihyun molded himself so perfectly into Jooheon’s circle of friend; first Changkyun looking all starstruck by Kihyun and showing a tremendous amount of interest in what Kihyun does in his free time—latching onto the photography hobby and trying to ask all kind of questions he could with his limited knowledge in that department; and now Hoseok making easy conversation with Kihyun.

“What middle school did you go to?” Hoseok asks, twisting his head so he could look at Kihyun, interest sparking in his eyes. “I’ve never seen you around the one Changkyun, Jooheon, and I went to,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Um, I transferred to the one by the docks,” Kihyun answers, still looking uncomfortable by the questions. It seemed that he isn't quite used to the attention.

“Transferred? Where did you go before that?”

“Oh, I went to a school in another town. Me and my dad moved here only three years ago.” Hoseok lets out a surprised and prolonged _oh_. Kihyun shrugs and kicks a pebble, it lands on Jooheon’s line of walking; Kihyun shoots him a look and with a sigh Jooheon kicks the pebble, trying to aim it in Kihyun’s direction.

(Jooheon doesn’t look if Kihyun smiles or make some sort of appreciative gesture; it’s not really as if he cares, anyway.)

“Why did you and your dad move here?” Hoseok asks, unaware of the small pebble exchange.

“I—I don’t really want to talk about it,” Kihyun mumbles. Jooheon looks over then and the older has his jaw clenched; he looks sad and small.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok apologizes. He clears his throat, the awkwardness rising in the air as the silence stretches out. It seems to be rather suffocating Hoseok, while Jooheon doesn’t really mind the slightly awkward atmosphere, or lack of words.

(He’s learned that sometimes words aren’t necessarily needed.)

He stops at a crossroad, pushing his hands in his trouser pockets. “I have to go this way now,” he tells them, nodding his head in the direction of the smaller of the roads meeting at the crossroad.

“Sure, see you on Monday.” Hoseok moves forward to give Jooheon a quick hug.

There’s a brief moment of nothing in which Jooheon and Kihyun exchange a glance; they’re both unsure of what to say—if they’re required to even say something—because the get together was not as bad as both expected, and maybe that fight they had wasn’t really against each other but just with one self.

Jooheon looks away, mumbling a weak _bye_ at Kihyun, and turns around walking down the road that leads him home. He doesn’t really want to go to his house yet, his parents undoubtedly are awake still, but there’s nowhere for him to go tonight and he can’t really stay outside as it is extremely cold. Usually he would sit by the ocean or on a bench in a park nearby, thinking about life while he smokes a cig he stole from his dad. Sometimes he’ll go to the basketball court to get the duffel bag he hid some time ago behind some bushes, it’s filled with graffiti cans, and he’ll draw something on the walls around the court, or smash some of the already broken glass bottles lying around on the ground—it helps him get all the inner anger inside him out.

But not tonight. Tonight he walks home, with each steps he takes to the family house his shoulders grow more tense and he himself shrinks, until he stands in front of the red door.

* * *

 

On Monday Kihyun almost has forgotten about that meeting on Saturday where he suddenly found himself sitting at the same table as Lee Jooheon, as if they're friends or something. Things are back to normal, though, as Kihyun watches Changkyun walk past him without really acknowledging him; and Kihyun lets out a relieved sigh.

He waits next to his classroom’s door together with the other students of that class; he sees Hoseok approach him. Kihyun's eyes widen when Hoseok stops right in front of him, big smile and everything, and says _good_ _morning_ as if they're friends. Kihyun swallows, eyeing the students around them, but no one bats an eyelash—mostly everyone is too tired still to properly function so early in the morning.

“Good morning,” Kihyun mumbles back, pulling at the straw of his backpack, hitching it further up his shoulder, towards his neck. He feels awkward and out of place.

“How was your—” Hoseok doesn't finish his question and Kihyun is glad, he isn't sure he could have handled sudden friendly banter with Hoseok.

The _reason_ for Hoseok's abrupt halt walks down the corridor, students parting like the Red Sea, with new bruises covering his face. Jooheon looks bad, _really_ _bad_. Kihyun can't help but frown at the sight—he feels uneasy. Sure, they were enemies and did fight, throwing punches at one another, but whoever Jooheon got into a fight with must have really been ruthless and brutal; Kihyun would never beat the other up like _that_. Jooheon ignores the curious and frightened glances that everyone throws his way, he pulls down his hood further to cover up his face—it's strange, usually he bears his wounds proudly—and Kihyun wonders who did this to him. Changkyun runs over to Jooheon, talking to him in a hushed voice.

Hoseok steps forward, making a move to walk to his friend, but Kihyun grabs the sleeve of his jacket, holding him back. “Our teacher is here,” he says; he isn't quite sure _why_.

“Tell him I had to go to the toilette or something,” Hoseok only tells him, and walks off to where Changkyun and Jooheon disappeared in the men's bathroom.

Kihyun stands alone in the hallway for a moment before he finally walks inside the classroom. He reports the teacher of Hoseok's whereabouts.

 

On the kitchen counters the fridge's products are lined up—the ones that were expired, they already threw into the big trash can. Their assignment—or rather punishment—of the day is to clean the insides of the cafeteria kitchen's fridge. It's a tiresome task and Kihyun's arms hurt, plus it's freezing.

He is scrubbing off some weird stain that is horribly persistent, Jooheon by his side cleaning the door. It's eerily quiet, it's never been like this before; they would usually throw snarky remarks at each other by now, but Kihyun can't find it in himself to really be mean to Jooheon. Not when Jooheon wears such painful wounds. It would feel _wrong_.

He has been wanting to ask about them for hours—ever since the morning, really—but he can't quite make himself to do so. Jooheon's face is blank, a permanent frown between his eyebrows, and his lips are bitten raw, small cuts in them from where his teeth sank in unmercifully. He seems worried; distressed, even.

“Are you—” Kihyun starts, hesitant.

“Not in the mood, Kihyun,” Jooheon interrupts him, his tone snappy and final.

“Okay.” Kihyun stares at him for a while.

He still has his hoodie's hood pulled over his head, his dirty blond hair falling over his forehead. His plump lips are parted as he breathes in and out softly. There are bags under his eyes that Kihyun doesn't remember seeing so prominently on Saturday—or maybe he never quite studied Jooheon's face like this before. He shakes his head at the thought and looks away quickly; then he continues to clean the _fucking_ stain he has been trying to wipe off for the past twenty minutes.

* * *

 

The sky is dark now as it is nighttime but it's clear and the stars are visible, shining bright, the moon is a sigil only, hanging ominously over a conglomeration of smaller skyscrapers that serve as offices during the daytime—at night they just blend in with the darkness of the sky. Jooheon is sitting on the trunk of an old and beaten down car, it's parked by an old gas station. The different gas disposal as well as an air pump are still there, from when this used to be a functioning station still; but they don't work anymore and the place is now abandoned. It has become a hangout spot for teenagers; the small shop attached to the station no longer exists—it was torn down—and now there's an ugly blank spot in its place, which currently is filled with mud and rainwater and trash.

Across from the gas station is a smaller street, a pedestrian crossing in the middle; the rain puddles reflect the green and red traffic lights. A boy in Jooheon's age is approaching on the other side of the street, holding a plastic bag; he looks left and right and left again before he crosses the street hurriedly. Jooheon jumps down from the car's trunk and walks over to greet the boy with a handshake. _Gunhee_. They're the same age but assist different schools and only ever meet in these hangouts. They don't really exist to one another outside of this scenario.

“Hey, man.” Jooheon hugs the other shortly, patting his shoulder amicably like they always do. Gunhee shakes his hand and squeezes it lightly. Then they pull apart. “How have you been? It's been awhile.”

They walk around the car to a small clearing behind the gas station, where teenagers have put up a small and cozy hangout spot with old and ratty couches, several cooling boxes with drinks, and two small tables with snacks on top; in the middle of the clearing is a rusty metal can, inside a fire flickers softly—someone holds a stick with marshmallows over it.

“Good. Just stressed about school. I might be able to graduate early but,” Gunhee starts to report to Jooheon about his doings in the past weeks that they haven't seen each other, “I might take a break before going to uni. Get a job or something.” He shrugs, unbothered, and sits down on one of the couches. He pulls out of the plastic bag a six pack of beer. Jooheon sits next to him and snatches one of the cans. “What about you?”

“Same old, same old. Parents are homophobic and they might kick me out,” he explains, drowning half of the can. Gunhee scoffs next to him, mumbling something like _fucking_ _assholes_. “But a friend of mine knows about it and might offer me to stay with him. But he graduates next year, so I don't know where to go after that.”

“When the time comes you can figure that out. I think for now it's nice knowing you have a place to stay at,” Gunhee says, a pensive look on his face. There's a frown between his eyebrows, and he looks worried. “A place where you're safe,” he adds. Jooheon nods, finishing the beer. “If I hear anything about a cheap flat where you could stay, I'll let you know.” Gunhee turns his head to look at him and reaches out his hand to squeeze Jooheon's shoulder tightly.

(Jooheon feels a bit like he is going to cry.)

“Thank you,” he mumbles, staring at the crackling fire. “I hate this. It's all so _uncertain_. My entire life could crumble right now, and all because my parents won't accept having a gay son,” he starts ranting some minutes later, anger pulsating through his veins. “My entire life could turn to _shit_ right now. I could become homeless and die relatively soon. Just because I'm— **”** His voice breaks and he leans into the sofa cushions, trying to hide himself and his pain.

“Jooheon,” Gunhee says but there's no follow up after that. He's as lost as Jooheon is. They're sixteen, kids still. They're too young to really know how to properly deal with this and find the right path. They're young and lost, and only have the comfort they can give one another. “Promise me you won't give up. No matter how—how horrible things might turn out in the future, promise me you'll keep fighting.”

Jooheon looks at him. Gunhee has his hands balled into fists, he looks angry but as well determined. Jooheon realizes he's said those words for himself, too, giving himself that courage and hope that no one seems to give him. Jooheon reaches out his hand and pats Gunhee’s knee.

“You, too. Don't give up, alright?” Jooheon tells him and Gunhee nods.

“Marshmallows?” They're dragged out of their moment by a tall boy appearing in front of them, holding out several sticks with marshmallows on them.

“Yeah, thank you, Tae,” Jooheon says as he takes one, smiling at the boy. He looks delighted to be handing out marshmallows.

And just like that, with some crunchy marshmallows, the mood shifts and changes, and Jooheon is chatting away with the other teenagers, forgetting all his worries for the night. This is why these hangouts are so important to him, he gets a chance to be a teenager like any other. He can talk freely without any worry. It's _home_ to him.

(He has Changkyun and Hoseok, but they don't understand. They'll never understand; and Jooheon needs desperately to be understood, so he doesn't feel as _alone_.)

 

Kihyun wanders the empty streets, his Canon camera slung around his shoulder, turned on and ready for when he sees something worthy to take a picture of. He's currently working on a portfolio, not just for his university application but he thinks about doing some two months apprenticeship over the summer at a local photography study—he's found a couple that search for enthusiastic students to employ. He has countless pictures of daytime landscapes, people, animals, sunsets and sunrises, but not one nighttime picture to show off. He never really thought that the night could be beautiful enough to capture; it usually reminds him of all those moments he spends awake overthinking—or crying.

But as he wanders through some unknown and unexplored neighbourhood he thinks it's not so bad, and he has taken some nice pictures of skyscrapers and the city lights. It's kind of entrancing, the city at night. Plus it rained earlier in the day, while he had been at school, and in the puddles on the pavement the lights are reflected and it serves for some really nice shots.

He doesn't know how long he has wandered around, or what time it is, when he hears faint music and excited teenage chatter. In the distance he spots what seems to be an abandoned gas station, behind it is a group of teenagers. A fire in the middle if the group; they're drinking, dancing, and laughing loudly and freely.

When he approaches carefully he realizes startled that he recognizes some of the faces. There's Min Yoongi, the son of their coach, and to Kihyun's surprise he is making out with some tall boy Kihyun hasn't seen before; there are Hyuna and Hyojong, engaged with one another, much like they are in school these days; a group of girls Kihyun knows attend his school, he thinks one of them is called Sunmi, are dancing around; there's a boy he's seen around school whose name he doesn't know but he's always talking excitedly and wearing bright colors; and then there's Lee Jooheon, sitting cozily close to a boy Kihyun doesn't know, they're chatting away with some girls and laughing loudly.

The scene is captivating and without thinking he raises his camera to take a picture.

The flash of his camera is on and it alarms the group of teenagers. They turn to look at him, startled—some even _afraid_ —and he feels embarrassed. He swallows down his nerves and approaches the group, aware of all the eyes on him; it makes him sweat, and his knees feel shaky. He holds his camera in front of his chest like a shield, as if it'll protect him. Kihyun looks at Jooheon, whose eyebrows are raised and his eyes are wide with surprise and confusion. Kihyun nods at him curtly.

“Um,” he starts slowly, his voice shaking. “Sorry. I was just taking pictures of the night scenery and this looked, uh, _nice_? I can delete it if—”

“It's okay, dude,” the tall boy Yoongi was making out with says. He throws a dimpled and reassuring smile at Kihyun. “As long as you don't publish it anywhere, or show it around,” he adds, his tone serious. He looks intimidating.

“You're Yoo Kihyun, aren't you?” Yoongi asks, stepping forward. “You applied for the journalism club.”

“Yes.”

“I'm the head of the club. If you want, you can show me some of your stuff right now, and who knows, maybe on Monday you can join,” he says, and Kihyun nods, feeling a bit flustered.

After that it's as if the stunned state everyone was in breaks and they go back to what they were doing. Kihyun sits down next to Yoongi and gives him his camera; the tall boy—who Kihyun learns is called Namjoon—leaves to chat with others. Kihyun looks up, sensing that he is being watched, and he catches Jooheon staring at him. He holds the younger's eyes for a couple of seconds, trying to understand what the other is thinking—trying to make out why Jooheon is there. But the boy next to Jooheon addresses him and the dirty blond boy looks away, talking to his friend; and Kihyun focuses his attention back on Yoongi.

 

It's around two in the morning when Jooheon tells Gunhee that he is going to leave. He gets up from the couch, telling his goodbyes to his other friends, and walks up to the pedestrian crossing by the gas station. He shivers at the cold breeze that is passing through, now that the alcohol has worn off some he notices the cold again, and he wishes nothing more than to get home and crash in his bed and sleep for twelve hours. He is about to cross the street when he hears quickly approaching footsteps behind him, so he turns around and to his surprise he sees Kihyun jogging over to him.

He is wearing that dumb bomber jacket of his—it has the words _LONE WOLF_ printed on the back—underneath he wears a black hoodie, and blue jeans hugging his legs; his camera is swung around his neck and he is holding it in place with his left hand so it doesn't bounce around as he runs towards Jooheon. His black hair is flopping around, it's long and covers his eyebrows and part of his eyes already. Jooheon notices for the first time that he has piercings adorning his right ear—two helix piercings.

(Jooheon thinks for a moment that Kihyun might be kind of pretty.)

“Hey,” the older boy exhales once he's caught up. He is looking at Jooheon expectantly, but he doesn't know what he is supposed to say in return so he crosses the street. Kihyun follows him. “Um, do you hang out here often?”

Jooheon glances at him. “Yeah,” he replies, unsure why Kihyun cares.

“What—” Kihyun starts but stops, still catching his breath from the jog. “What kind of hangout is this?” he asks, curiously; but when Jooheon shoots him an incredulous look, because it was pretty obvious, they weren't hiding it exactly. At least not there. Kihyun catches his eyes and looks away embarrassed. But it's not just that, he seems scared, too. “Like, do you—”

“It's where we can be comfortable,” he interrupts him. “Why are you asking? Do you want to come by again? Are you perhaps _gay_?”

Kihyun flinches at the word; he's looking at his shoes as they walk down the pavement towards the family neighborhoods where they both live at. He seems nervous and scared, and Jooheon gets it. He's been there, too—he still would be if it weren't for Changkyun and Hoseok. _Maybe we're not so different_ , he thinks.

“I'm—I'm _not_ gay,” Kihyun finally replies but even to Jooheon, who barely knows him, it sounds like a lie, and Kihyun seems to realize that as his ears turn red in shame. “But maybe I would go again. Everyone is really nice.”

“We could go together next time,” Jooheon says for some reason.

A month ago they met, yelling spiteful things at one another; two weeks ago they were giving each other bruises, thinking they were enemies; but Jooheon realizes maybe they just started off on the wrong foot, maybe they could be friends. Maybe that hate they wore against each other wasn't exactly directed at the other, just an excuse to let out their anger towards the world—towards themselves. Maybe they'd get along this second time around.

“ _Truce_?” Jooheon asks, stopping and reaching out his hand.

Kihyun takes his hand, smiling at him. " _Truce_ ," he agrees with a nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have a good week everyone 💛


	4. 4. birds (fly in different directions)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW** for this chapter: minor character death by the end!

**1 year later**

The city lights reflect on the bus’ windows as Kihyun lifts his second suitcase out of the vehicle with the driver's help. He has two big bags filled with all his belongings; his room back in his old house looks mostly naked now, like the rest of the house, Kihyun's dad takes on a lot of office hours and barely is home—just to sleep and sometimes eat—so he never saw the importance of decorating the house and make it look lived in— _homely_. At least not after Kihyun's mom died, before that, when they still lived in their hometown, their house had been full of family pictures, paintings that Kihyun had drawn as a child, and other things.

“Will you be alright, kid?” the driver asks once Kihyun's luggage is standing on the sidewalk. Kihyun nods. “Remember, line 505 to get to the university’s dorms.”

“Thank you,” he says and walks away from the bus stop to search where his line departs, dragging both his suitcases behind him.

 _University_. He's done it, he graduated high school successfully and is on the verge of starting his next chapter in life; the one that will determinate further what he will do in life and where he wants to go. He is studying _Photography and Film_ , there's nothing else he could imagine doing—nothing else he would _want_ to do. His dad supports him, like he always does in anything Kihyun sets his mind to do, and it's a blessing really; specially after Kihyun's disastrous meeting with their school's counsellor half a year ago who told Kihyun that photography was barely a job nor a career, and he should think twice before choosing that. Kihyun exited the office with his fists balled and an incredible urge to smash something, but instead he went to shoot some hoops later in the evening with Jooheon.

 _Jooheon_.

They hung out a lot over the past year, specially during summer, they bonded a lot. It was almost as if they've always known one another. Kihyun knows he will miss him—at least until the next year when Jooheon will come to uni, too.

It's strange how quick the younger settled himself into Kihyun's life. After that one night by the abandoned gas station, they slowly hung out more and more; it started with hesitant conversations during their detention period, then they did practice a lot of basketball in their free time at some court Jooheon frequented; and by the end of last year they were already best friends. It went quick, almost too quick, and Kihyun remembers thinking at first that it was too good to be real, and that they'd end up fighting again, but that never came—still hasn't. Their friends welcomed the truce they had drawn, and the four (five when Hyunwoo was in town) of them hung out a lot, but Kihyun didn't get as close with them as he did with Jooheon. He knows Hoseok goes to the same university as him; he'll see him often and there will be plenty of time for him to get to know Hoseok.

As Kihyun waits for the bus 505, he reminisces of the summer. It had been a lot different from his previous summers; he spent most of it outside with Jooheon, talking or playing basketball, or drinking by the abandoned gas station with the other kids—for some reason Jooheon never dragged Changkyun or Hoseok there, and it made Kihyun feel special. Somewhere along those hot and lazy days Kihyun got so used to Jooheon’s presence that the past week, in which he hasn't seen him, felt plain and lacking to him. It felt _wrong_. The thought scares him, no one ever had made him feel this dependent and he isn't sure if it's healthy, at all (probably not). But he can't help the way he feels, they way he misses his friend, the way he feel excited about seeing him again in a couple of weeks when he will visit Jooheon for his birthday.

* * *

 

It's January and Kihyun has settled fairly well into his university life by now. He just came back from visiting his dad for Christmas and the new year celebrations. He hung out with Jooheon a lot, too. Catching up with his friend and enjoying his presence—he missed him a lot. Nothing much changed in his former home, the abandoned gas station was still a hangout spot for the troubled youth, and Kihyun missed that atmosphere. He hasn't found anything like it in this new city, but at least he is not alone, he has Hoseok and Hyunwoo—with whom he hangs out on a regular basis.

But he can't deny that when he hung out with Jooheon that one week there was a change in the way they interacted, for one Kihyun suddenly grew hyper aware of everything Jooheon did—from the way he laughed, to how he would look at Kihyun when he spoke, and how he would more often than not seek out physical contact. Kihyun never realized before how touchy Jooheon was but during that week he often would find himself blushing and with his heart beating loudly in his chest—it was calling out Jooheon's name repeatedly like a mantra—and Kihyun didn't know what to do with himself. He was scared ( _terrified_ ) of the truth behind this. He wonders if Jooheon was aware of it, of the change—he hopes not.

He isn't quite sure, yet, what it really means for him; how he will proceed from now on with this information. One thing was realizing that perhaps he is into men, _theoretically_ , another thing is actually developing _feelings_ for one. One that he has known for a while and who is a dear friend to him, he doesn't want to lose that. It was weird realizing the shift in their relationship and in the way they interacted. Maybe it isn't all that different from before but Kihyun perceived it differently, he read into each movement and gesture Jooheon did. It's as if he watches a Disney movie now as an adult and grows aware of all the small details that always were in the movie but that he never understood as a child because he lacked the information.

He thinks back to New Year's Eve, when he went to meet Jooheon and Changkyun down by the docks. He had spent dinner with his dad but then excused himself to meet this friends and celebrate the new year with them, to which his dad assured him it was fine and that he didn't mind spending it alone.

It was ten minutes before midnight when he met the two boys. The sea was black and calm, and the moon shone brightly in the clear sky. They sat down on the wooden docks, their feet dangling over the flat surface of the water, passing beer cans to one another. When the clock struck midnight they watched in silence how the fireworks exploded in the sky. It was beautiful, colorful, and exciting; and when Kihyun glanced to his side he met Jooheon's eyes, they held each other’s gazes, and it felt as if time stopped—at least to Kihyun. And his heartbeat doubled in speed, and he realized then how _pretty_ Jooheon was. And that was when the epiphany came to him; _he likes Jooheon_. He likes another man. Kihyun being gay was no longer something hypothetical and that could fade away over time; no, it was very much _real_.

Kihyun looked away quickly, his eyes back on the dark waters, where the fireworks reflected themselves. The cracking and exploding of them resonated in his chest together with his wild heartbeat, which was generated because of both: his love for Jooheon, and the fear of that statement.

* * *

 

Everything goes to _shit_ during Spring Break.

Kihyun feels small. So incredibly small and insignificant and worthless and _horrible_. He feels like he doesn't deserve to be breathing right now; the words he said to Jooheon spin around in his mind, taunting him. He doesn't even deserve Jooheon's love, the younger shouldn't be in love with him. Kihyun is too scared still to admit to himself that he is gay, Jooheon should be with someone that holds his sexuality proud, not Kihyun, who is ashamed.

He hates the words he yelled at his friend; he feels guilty and horrible. He hides his face in his pillow, it's smeared with snot and tears, and cries himself to sleep.

He regrets throwing those words at Jooheon, he regrets allowing himself to fall for Jooheon, he regrets showing Jooheon glimpses of his heart. He regrets so much, and he wishes he could just wake up without any recollection of these events—without remembering who Jooheon is.

But when he wakes up hours later to his dad knocking on his bedroom door hesitantly, Kihyun still remembers the younger and he still feels like shit. His dad shoots him a tired smile.

“Dinner is ready,” he tells his son but when Kihyun makes no movement he approaches his bed. “Is everything alright, big boy?” he asks, sitting down on the edge of Kihyun's bed and petting his son's hair softly. Kihyun lets out a dry laugh at the nickname.

“No,” he croaks out. “Dad, I—I think I'm, er… I think I like boys? Men?” he tells his dad finally, but it sounds more like a question, like he isn't quite sure yet if he actually does—which he _does_. “I, um, I'm—I’m _gay_ ,” he admits then, shivering as more tears threaten to spill out. His dad just keeps petting his hair softly.

“That's quite alright, Kihyun,” he says after a while. “Come on, let's go to the kitchen. Dinner will get cold.” With that he gets up and leaves Kihyun's room.

Kihyun lets out a sigh of relief, his lungs hurting from all the crying. Although he does feel better about admitting liking men, it doesn't change what he told Jooheon; it doesn't undo the words he told the younger hours earlier. He _fucked_ up, there's no turning back time now; nothing can fix his mistake.

* * *

 

**6 months later**

Jooheon takes in a deep breath as he enters the classroom. Classes are officially starting now, his uni classes, no longer the high school bullshit; now it's all about what he really wants to do and achieve in life. Become a musician, both rap and produce.

It's his second week of university and so far it's going well, he hung out with Hyunwoo and Hoseok over the weekend, and it was just like the old times but better; he can't wait for Changkyun to join them in two years. And he's befriended his roommate, Lee Minhyuk, who's a year above him. He reminds him a bit of Changkyun, in the way that they're both physically slim and don't seem like much, but they're so much stronger and present than that—plus they radiate a similar chaotic energy. _They'd get along_ , Jooheon thinks; maybe he could introduce them once Changkyun starts university.

Jooheon thinks back to when he moved into the dorm, welcomed by a white haired man who was putting up posters of some male idol, and when Jooheon looked at him he raised his eyebrows as if challenging him to say something, to make a comment that it was a _male idol_ instead of a female one, but Jooheon just smiled and told him that his best friend was a fan of this idol, too. The white haired man just took him in for a second before he reached out his hand to shake his, introducing himself as Lee Minhyuk. And that was _that_. Afterwards they went to a small restaurant around the corner to eat some dinner and get to know one another a bit better.

It's been two weeks since then and aside from that first day they haven't exactly hung out much or bonded further, not because they don't want to but classes have kept them busy; and Jooheon still is getting the handle of this new town, his new environment. Besides it's not as if they don't talk or catch up with one another, they do have some small talk—talks about classes, the weather, professors and other students—they just haven't found a moment to _really_ talk about who they were, who they want to be, where they come from and where they want to go, what they think of when they look up at the stars during nighttime—at least Jooheon thinks these are requirements to strengthen a friendship.

He drops his bag on the floor as he takes a seat in his class, he smiles at the girl sitting next to him, she smiles back. They chat for a while, until the professor enters the classroom and silence falls over them. Jooheon immerses himself in the class, barely paying attention to those around them, but halfway through the class he spots a familiar flannel shirt. The boy wearing it sits in the first row, he has broad shoulders and wears a cap. _Maybe_ , Jooheon thinks, _maybe it's him_. But what would he even tell him? He's ghosted Gunhee and all the other people from the abandoned gas station in the past couple of months. He's been a horrible friend—acquaintance would be more accurate—he doesn't deserve their friendship anymore.

Jooheon looks away and focuses his attention back on his professor as he scribbles down in his notebook everything he deems as important.

But in the back of his mind he thinks about Gunhee and the abandoned gas station; he thinks about the reason why he avoided that place since April. _Kihyun_. He goes to this university, too. Jooheon isn't sure how he's supposed to face the older if the situation arises that they bump into one another. He knows both Hoseok and Hyunwoo are in contact with Kihyun, they're friends after all—Jooheon isn't bothered by it—but they promised to not talk about Kihyun or what happened. Jooheon is grateful for that, but he can't help but have that question permanently on the tip of his tongue.

( _How is Kihyun doing?,_  he wants to ask.)

 

The water in the shower shuts off and Minhyuk's singing quiets down with it. Some minutes later the white haired boy exits their attached bathroom, he is toweling his hair as he walks around their room, leaving his dirty clothes in the laundry basket. He is humming quietly. Then he goes back into the bathroom to blow dry his hair, the noise startles Jooheon—he was so immersed in the book he is reading—and he throws a dirty look in the direction of the bathroom. He resettles himself on his bed and continues his fascinating read on history of modern music. Once Minhyuk is done he puts on some jeans and a black t-shirt.

“I'm going over to Hyungwon's room, my best friend, do you want to tag along?” Minhyuk asks him, putting on a yellow hoodie and grabbing his phone, wallet, and keys from his night table. He throws Jooheon a questioning glanced, cocking his head to the side, his hair moves with the motion—it looks so silky and soft. Jooheon envies him, he had to let the blonde grow out and go back to his natural dark brown hair because it was getting too hard to maintain.

Jooheon nods his head in affirmation. “Sure,” he says and sets down the book he was reading. He can neglect it for now, the essay he has to write on it isn’t due until in a month anyway. He gets up from his bed and grabs his phone, then he follows Minhyuk out to the dorm corridor.

It's a Thursday and many students are wandering around, specially first years, wanting to meet other uni students or go out for a couple of drinks down by one of the bars in the precinct of the dorms. A lot don’t have classes on Friday—if they do it's in the afternoon, and they can afford staying out late—and take Thursday as their partying day. Jooheon wanders the packed hallway with Minhyuk, making small talk.

“You mentioned you were part of the cheerleading club in your high school; what was _that_ like?” Minhyuk asks him curiously, he has a small smirk gracing his face.

“Eh, well, I was the manager because I broke my knee after a pretty bad fall, plus I wanted to join the basketball team and some of the schedules collided,” he explains, reminiscing the days of his club activities. “But my friend was base. He was the only guy in the team. He got a lot of shit from other guys at school but he didn't let them stop him. He had a lot of fun.”

“It sure does sound like fun.” Minhyuk laughs, it's not cruel, and Jooheon smiles. Maybe they really could be friends. He loves his friends dearly but maybe some fresh wind wouldn't be so bad. “My friend, Hyungwon, is a dancer and he got shit for it as well. Specially since he did ballet in high school. But yeah, he had fun, too, and didn't let those jerks stop him.”

“What did _you_ do during high school?”

“Date, mostly. And get my heart broken,” he says with laugh, but it sounds bitter and there's pain in his eyes now. “Gay boys in high school are often closeted and as soon as someone gets wind of them being with _a_ _boy_ they drop you, quick, and pretend it was all your doing.” He lets out a long sigh, scratching his neck. “I was labelled as the gay boy anyway, so of course _they_ never got shit for it, I took all the blows for them.” He grimaces but when he catches Jooheon's worried look he moves his hands in the air in a dismissive way. “I'm over it now, though, no worries.”

Jooheon thinks back to April, when he told Kihyun that he loves him, and the rejection he faced. The way his heart broke into a million pieces, and he only had himself to pick them up—with some help from Changkyun. He clenches his fists and shakes his head.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I don't think boys in university are that much better. Once a coward, always a coward.” Minhyuk throws him a look, his lips parting as if to say something, but Jooheon doesn't let him. “I told my crush I loved him, knowing he feels the same, but the absolute _asshole_ just said he isn't gay and some other shit. It still hurts.”

“I'm sorry,” Minhyuk says and stops, he seems hesitant as he searches for his words. “But you shouldn't let that experience define your worth. And you shouldn't let that asshole stop you from loving and being proudly gay—or bisexual, or whatever you identify as.”

“I know.” Jooheon looks up at him. Minhyuk holds a sympathetic expression; they only met a month ago and are practically strangers but there are some experiences in life, some things and characteristics about one self, that break those barriers in between complete strangers and create a strong bond—something others that don't face this pain and rejection would understand. “I _know_ ,” he repeats with a sigh. “Come on, lets go, your friend is probably waiting.”

“Yeah, he probably is.” Minhyuk smiles at him, it's bright and reassuring, and Jooheon feels glad about this conversation. It might not be much right now but he feels calmer.

(That storm that was in his chest ever since April is slowly settling down, and he feels as if he can breathe a bit better now—he isn't completely drowning anymore.)

He smiles back at Minhyuk. 

Then they continue their way down the hallway to room 277. Minhyuk knocks three times and waits. A tall and skinny boy opens the door, he looks sleepy going by the drowsiness of his eyes, although when they settle on Minhyuk there's a spark in them. The boy brightens up visibly and steps aside to let them in. He has black hair and his eyes are a greenish brown; his lips are plump, more than Jooheon's. He's handsome.

“Hi, I'm Hyungwon, you must be Jooheon,” he introduces himself, reaching out his hand for Jooheon to shake. “I've heard a lot about you from Minhyuk.” The aforementioned boy lets out an embarrassed laugh and softly punches Hyungwon on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I'm Jooheon, nice to meet you.” He takes the taller boy's hand and shakes it. “I've heard a lot about you, too.”

“I hope only the good things,” Hyungwon says with a smile, Jooheon nods his head, a smile slowly making its way onto his face. “My roommate is currently out with a friend but I think he will be back in an hour or so. You'll like him, he is funny. Kind of a dick, but a _good_ dick—”

“ _Hyungwon_ ,” Minhyuk says, snorting at his friend's words. Hyungwon opens his mouth, blushing slightly.

“ _Shut up_.” He looks embarrassed as his eyes move to Jooheon. Jooheon just smiles at him, shrugging noncommittally.

“So, anyway. How was your first month of the dreadful university experience?” Minhyuk asks as he lets himself fall onto what Jooheon assumes is Hyungwon's bed.

He sits down next to the white haired man and lets his eyes fall onto the bed across the room, the sheets on top are tucked in neatly and they're sort of familiar to him but he can't pinpoint where he has seen them before. Strangely the sight of them sets off an anxious feeling in his chest but he tries to shake it off as he engages in the conversation the two other boys are holding.

“I forgot already but what's your major, Hyungwon?” he asks.

“Literature with a minor in dance. What about you?”

“Music.”

“I get it, you're all artists,” Minhyuk says with a roll of his eyes.

“Sorry, not everyone can be a big intellectual and study biochemistry,” Hyungwon shoots back, shaking his head. He takes a seat on his roommate's bed.

Minhyuk looks at the other side of the room where all the belongings of Hyungwon's roommate are scattered, he sits up, interested.

“What's your roommate like? What's his name? Is he gay and single?” he asks rapidly and Hyungwon laughs. He rolls his eyes but replies anyway.

“He _is_ gay and he _is_ single, but I tell you, he's not your type. He is smaller than you and snaps easily, and gets embarrassed super quick. He'd die if he were to date you,” Hyungwon replies, laughing at the offended scoff Minhyuk lets out.

“Maybe he could be something for you, Jooheon.” Minhyuk lolls his head in Jooheon's direction with a smirk. “Time to forget those cowardly high school boys and get a _man_.”

“Ew, that sounds so— _wrong_.” Hyungwon wrinkles his nose at his friend’s words. “Anyway. His name is Kihyun, he's your age Minhyuk, and studies photography. He's pretty good at it, too,” Hyungwon continues to describe his roommate but Jooheon has him tuned out now.

His eyes fall on the so familiar sheets and it makes sense now why they made him feel anxious. He looks at the pictures stuck over Kihyun's bed and he sees that picture of Hyunwoo playing football, he sees a picture of their high school... He sees a picture of _himself_ : he has his back facing the camera, his blond hair shining like a halo due to the sun above; the bomber jacket Kihyun had lend him makes him look bigger and stronger—the words _LONE WOLF_ are printed out on the back of it—and their old town stretches out in front of Jooheon. He remembers that day, they were on the rooftop of Hoseok's flat, it was some time after Jooheon got kicked out of his home; he thinks it might have been some days before Christmas, and Kihyun and him were still getting to know one another. It was a difficult time for him but as he looks at the picture he feels nostalgic and wishes to be there right now, with Kihyun. He _misses_ him. After all the shit Kihyun put him through back in April, he still misses him so much.

Jooheon gets up, clenching his jaw and holding back his tears. He mumbles a weak _gotta go_ at Minhyuk and Hyungwon, who look surprised and confused at his sudden leave. They call out his name but he turns a deaf ear on them and fleas the room—he's hyperventilating. On the corridor he bumps into someone, he apologizes hastily and moves on but he doesn't make it far.

“Jooheon?” the person's voice is painfully familiar, the ghost of his past is catching up on him.

Jooheon stops and looks back. Kihyun stands there, looking at him with an astonished expression on his face. He looks good. His hair, which used to be black and long, is cut short now and dyed a few shades lighter; he has an undercut and the fringe that usually hid his face is now pushed back. It's the first time Jooheon really can see his face completely—not hidden, not hiding anything. Kihyun has his mouth parted as he stares at Jooheon, it seems as if he wants to say something but the words won't come. Jooheon notices he is wearing that dumb _LONE WOLF_ bomber jacket and the pain becomes overwhelmingly unbearable, so he turns around and fleas down the corridor, away from Kihyun.

“Jooheon, wait!” the older calls out but to Jooheon's relief doesn't follow him.

* * *

 

**Flashback to April**

_They were just_ _sitting in Kihyun's room, hanging out since it's Spring Break and Kihyun came to visit for a week and a half. Jooheon was delighted to sees his friend and crush again, and he was certain this was_ it _. But when he finally found the courage to say those words he's meaning to say for such a long time—always holding back because it was incredibly overwhelming—Kihyun did not look pleasant at hearing his confession. He leaped away from Jooheon, dropping his Uno cards on his bedroom floor, forgetting the game they were playing completely._

_Jooheon's heart beats wildly, this time not because he is nervous-excited, or because Kihyun's presence makes his body tingle, makes him float, and all giddy; this time it's pure fear. He swallows and places his Uno cards delicately on the floor._

_“What do you_ mean _?” Kihyun asks, his tone accusatory, and narrows his eyes. It feels as if he is blaming Jooheon’s feelings for_ something.

_(Something only Kihyun knows of—feels guilty for.)_

_“I—I, well, I meant what I meant,” Jooheon counters. He's frowning at the way Kihyun is reacting to his confession, he thought it would go differently; he didn't think he would be faced with a frightened Kihyun, squaring his shoulders to appear bigger and towering over Jooheon to intimidate him. Maybe that way he thinks Jooheon will take back his words._ He won't _. “I love you,” he repeats._

_Kihyun lets out a stuttering breath, he is clenching his fists, and avoids Jooheon's eyes, glancing around his own room in search for an escape—or an answer._

“Don't,” _he demands._

_It's not the answer Jooheon has hoped for, and it hurts. He thought since he understood Kihyun it could work out, but Kihyun seems to be too scared, too far back in the closet. Too new to his own feelings and realizations still to reciprocate Jooheon's feelings wholly._

_“It can't be undone that easily. Tomorrow I'll wake up and I will still love you.” Jooheon leans forward, closer to him, and reaches out his hand but Kihyun slaps it away, staggering backwards. He's looking at Jooheon with fear._ “ _Kihyun…_ ”

“Leave!” _he shouts, his voice piercing through Jooheon's soul like a knife. “I'll never feel something like that for another boy, even less someone like you.” Kihyun is panting harshly, close to panicking, his own words just sinking in._

 _The words coax the room with a deafening silence and Jooheon's ears start ringing, the heaviness of the statement swallowing him entirely until he no longer feels present. He sees Kihyun in front of him but it doesn't feel_ real _—he's disassociating. He gets up slowly, turns around, and walks out of the room, the ringing in his ears gets louder; he hears Kihyun say something but it sounds distorted and incomprehensible to him. He's hyper aware of all the different colors reigning in Kihyun's house, all these shades of grey, black, white, blue, beige; it's fascinating to him all of a sudden. After he exits the house he grabs his bike from where it lies on the front lawn, and pedals away from the house._

_(The sadness hasn't quite settled in, yet, but he feels it coming—a thunderstorm approaching in the horizon.)_

* * *

 

Kihyun's in the grocery shop, shopping for some snacks when he gets the phone call. It's an unknown number and he considers not picking up but he does anyway after some debating with himself.

“Hello, this is Yoo Kihyun, who am I speaking with?” he asks down the line, staring at an assortment of chips; which ones would Hyungwon like?

“Mr Yoo, my name is Kang Heejin, Captain from the police department. I'm calling you because of your father,” a woman answers, she seems to be in her 40's, her voice laced with seriousness, and Kihyun stops breathing. He presses the phone closer to his ear. The snacks’ aisle disappears from in front of him, it turns into a blurred blob. “I'm incredibly sorry to announce that he passed away earlier this morning—” She carries on with her information but Kihyun can't understand it anymore.

The plastic shopping basket he was holding clatters to the floor as he sinks down with it, falling onto his knees. He buries his head in his hands, his phone now lying on the floor next to him. The tears don't come but he's shaking and he can't breathe. He's _drowning_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for all the angst in this chapter dhjsdhs the next one will be angsty as well BUT after that the road looks CLEAR for kiheon Soft hours😔
> 
> honestly,, thank you so much for reading djkjsd ik not many read kiheon so every person commenting and leaving kudos is highly appreciated!!💛


	5. 5. sorry

Kihyun shuffles out of the subway and presses himself past the crowd of people. He should have taken Hyunwoo up on his offer to drive him to his new apartment. The landlady told him he could move in in two weeks, it had been vacant for the past month and she was looking for someone to move in.

See, the flat belonged to Kihyun's dad, who bought it years ago and rented it out—with the prospect that Kihyun would own it one day—until then it had been a source of money that he had been depositing in a savings bank, the purpose of it was that Kihyun could have access to it one day and use it for whatever. But then he had died unexpectedly. In between the blur of the past two weeks, ever since his passing, Kihyun got the news that he now owns a flat, situated close to university, and quite central. And it was all _his_. Lucky for him that it is currently vacant, too.

Kihyun still remembers the day he signed his dad's will, his hands shaky and his mind numb, he didn't really register then _what_ his dad had left him behind, he only understood it a couple of days later when the landlady called him and asked if he wanted to move in as no one else lived in the apartment at the moment. He agreed, of course, eager to move out of his dorm; as much as he likes Hyungwon, having his own living space sounds marvelous.

As Kihyun walks the distance from the subway station to the apartment block he thinks back to the funeral. Thankfully he had not been left alone with that, his aunt called him a day after he got the call from the police captain and told him she'd take over all paper related stuff plus the planning of the funeral—he only had to sign the will. Kihyun never was close to his aunt, mostly because she still believed that her family resented her for living with a woman, but at the funeral Kihyun told her about himself and that his dad had accepted him, and she cried harder then, her resent towards his father getting buried together with him.

Kihyun might have had a restrained relationship with his dad—they were never truly close—but his dad always had been supportive, and now Kihyun even has a place to live, he only has to pay the monthly water and electricity bills which he can manage with his part time job. Having a flat of his own is quite the feature, specially at his young age, not many nineteen year olds have a flat of their own.

He buzzes the button of the landlady's office and she welcomes him shortly after; she reminds him a bit of the high school's cook, Miss Park, with her warm smile and round face framed by black curls. They walk up to the flat and Kihyun is astonished by the size of it: there's a kitchenette already equipped, the living room connects to it and has two big windows with a view onto the town’s skyline; the bathroom is right next to what would become his bedroom. He'll have to start saving up now to buy furniture—the money his dad left him he wants to keep it for when he's faced with an emergency. For now he only needs to buy a bed from Ikea, the rest he can slowly acquire from second hand shops and by asking around. It feels unreal, standing in the middle of the empty and big living room and realize that _this_ is his. He can't quite yet grasp it. Maybe it'll come once he spends his first night sleeping here.

“Thank you for everything,” he tells the landlady once he leaves an hour later, excitement buzzing through his veins.

“It's nothing, my dear,” she says, squeezing his shoulder. “I'm sorry, by the way, about your father. He was a nice man. When he bought this he told me it was for you for when you finish university but I guess…” she trails off, looking uncomfortable, and shoots him an empathetic smile.

Kihyun returns her smile, his heart heavy. It's awkward and painful, he doesn't know when it'll get easier to deal with everyone's pity—probably never.

“You said I could move in in two weeks?” He moves the conversation away from his dad’s passing.

“Yes, my dear. I'll hand you the keys then, too. Until then I'll have people come by to fix some smaller issues, and clean it.”

“Thank you,” he says again and nods his head as he leaves for sure this time.

He takes the bus this time, and on his way back to his dorm he thinks about how he'll have to tell Hyungwon that he is moving out. They became good friends in the past two months, with Hyungwon's best friend, Minhyuk, too. _Maybe the two of them could move in together_ , he thinks to himself, but then he remembers who Minhyuk's roommate is and his stomach twist and turns. Jooheon wasn't at the funeral, of course, but he came to Kihyun's room afterwards, bringing his condolences, and they hugged for a brief moment. Kihyun started crying again, clinging to Jooheon and wishing he could undo their fight back in April. He had been so stupid and horrible, and he didn't really deserve Jooheon's love.

* * *

 

Jooheon sits on a fairly dirty table in the closest McDonald’s, tapping his finger on the fake wood as he waits for Hoseok to come back from ordering. He lets his gaze fall on a sticky, dark spot on the table, probably from someone who spilled some Coca-Cola there, and thinks about his encounter with Kihyun earlier.

He went to the library to check out some books for an essay he has to write about modern music producers, their influence in pop music, and their lack of recognition. In the library he unfortunately bumped into Kihyun, who was holding several books in his arms about photography and manuals for Photoshop. Kihyun looked surprised and a bit stunned, his cheeks flaring up, and Jooheon tried hard not to show any emotion on his face. The time before that that they had seen each other was nearly a month ago when Jooheon had gone over to Kihyun and Hyungwon’s room to console Kihyun about his father’s passing; the news had reached Jooheon through Hyunwoo, and Jooheon had pondered whether he should go over to Kihyun’s and give him his condolences or just leave it be. But then the funeral had happened and he had gotten news from Hyunwoo that Kihyun was devastated, understandably so, and Jooheon had gone to visit his ex best friend that night. They had hugged for a while and Jooheon had patted the older’s hair, quietly letting the other cry into his shoulder. It had been weird and devastating, and Jooheon had left feeling unsure about their relationship. They aren’t friends anymore, they haven’t talked about what happened in April, but they’re not exactly enemies either.

(They’re close to nothing, he realized that that night, and he didn’t like it.)

Jooheon is dragged out of his memories when Hoseok comes back, placing down a plastic tray, on it are two burgers, fries, and two sodas. Hoseok sits down on the booth in front of him, unpacking his burger. Jooheon grabs his own burger, the greasiness of the meal seeping through the paper around it; it’s kind of gross and Jooheon isn’t the biggest fan of fast food but Hoseok wanted to talk and he’s been craving greasy food lately, so he agreed to the meeting.

(He only ever craves fast food when he is _really_ , devastatingly sad.)

“So,” Hoseok starts, chewing loudly on his food and Jooheon pulls a grimace, “the reason why I asked you to meet me here is because I have an offer for you.”

“Okay?” Jooheon’s interest perks up at the vagueness of the statement.

“You now how Changkyun is starting university in two years and he _hates_ living with strangers,” Hoseok starts explaining, not really making any sense yet, but Jooheon waits patiently. “Well, I have a lot of money saved up and I found a flat to live in. It has a spare room and I’m saving it for Changkyun for when he starts, but until then it’s vacant.” Jooheon starts to have an idea of where his friend might be going with this. “I was wondering if you would want to move in? We’ve lived together before and it worked out pretty well, plus I know how small and inconvenient the dorm rooms can be.”

Although Jooheon really came to like Minhyuk’s presence, he has to agree, the dorms aren’t exactly _ideal_. He grabs his soda to wash down the remnants of his burger.

“I would love to but I barely have money. I only started my part time job two weeks ago, I don’t get my pay until the end of November,” he says, although he knows Hoseok wouldn’t mind, he’d turn a blind eye on Jooheon paying the rent later.

“That’s fine. It only would be 300, plus 50 for electricity and water.”

Jooheon picks up a fry and shoves it into his mouth, munching on it as he thinks about the offer Hoseok has presented him. It would be nice to live in a flat with his friend again, Hoseok was great when it came to emotional support, and with the recent events in Jooheon’s life he thinks he could need that, plus he enjoys Hoseok’s company a lot. It’s fun living with him. The first time they lived together, around two years ago, Jooheon’s living conditions weren’t the best—he got kicked out of home for being gay, that’s a rough and terrifying thing to go through and deal with—but living with Hoseok lessened that pain a bit, and he felt like things would turn out okay after all; which they did.

(Kind of, anyway.)

“Alright,” Jooheon finally agrees. Hoseok smiles brightly at him. “When can I move in?”

“Hm, I’m moving in next week. I’ll tell you once I’m all settled in and then you can come. Would that be alright with you?”

“Of course.”

* * *

 

Three weeks later Jooheon stands by the door of what would be his home for the next two years. The place is big, bigger than Hoseok’s last flat in their hometown, and Jooheon’s room is around the same size as his dorm room but this time the space is _all_ _his_ , he doesn’t have to share it with anyone. It'll take him a couple of hours to unpack and decorate it; Hoseok and Hyunwoo are out buying him a bed and a simple closet from Ikea. They made plans to build it together later, maybe watch some movies afterwards or drink a couple of beers at a bar nearby to celebrate.

He shuffles as he tries to get the keys out from his hoodie pocket, holding one of his moving boxes in the other hand (there are two more boxes standing in the hallway) but it slips out of his grasp and tumbles onto the floor loudly, the contents don’t fall out—thank god Hoseok taped them close when he helped Jooheon with the packing—but the noise alarms one of the neighbors as a door opens down the corridor. Jooheon counts down from ten to calm himself down and not be too embarrassed of his mishap. The neighbor approaches him and when Jooheon turns around to face them, tell them that he’s managing and doesn’t need any help, he lets out a noise of surprise. It’s Kihyun.

He’s dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, an apron tied around his waist, his hair tucked underneath the hood. He looks cosy and homely and Jooheon’s heart squeezes in his chest. Kihyun looks just as surprised to see Jooheon, opening his mouth to say something but nothing comes. They stand in silence for a couple of seconds, seizing each other up and dealing with the unforeseeable situation.

“Uh...” Kihyun is the first to interrupt the silence, licking his lips slowly as he forces himself out of his shock, blinking owlishly at Jooheon and the boxes standing in the corridor. “You live here?” he asks, finally.

“No,” Jooheon replies automatically but then cringes. He clears his throat and looks away, his cheeks flaring up in embarrassment. “I mean, yes. I do now. I’m moving in as we speak.”

“Oh. Well, do you need any help?”

Jooheon frowns at the offer. Why would he want his help? Why was Kihyun _offering_ his help? “No,” he replies, biting the inside of his cheeks to calm himself down and keep his emotions in check. “Hoseok and Hyunwoo are helping me later. They’re at Ikea right now.”

“Ah.” Kihyun nods his head in understanding, his eyes are fixed on Jooheon and it seems as if there’s something he wants to say—he doesn’t, though. He clears his throat and awkwardly wrings his hands together, lingering for a moment in the corridor before he finally turns around and walks back towards his own apartment, unlocking his door (the key turning sounds loud and unpleasant in the empty and quiet corridor). He shoots Jooheon one last look before he disappears.

Jooheon lets out a relieved sigh, his knees weak as he crouches down to sit next to the boxes. He needs a timeout before he can proceed moving in; he leans against the door and moves his arms around his head, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. Seconds later he starts crying quietly.

 

Kihyun is leaning against his door, his hands folded behind his back, lying flat against the wood; his head is lowered and his eyes are shut. His heart is hammering in his chest as he listens to Jooheon’s sobs.  

* * *

 

If there was a way to walk up to fate and tell it to stop messing around—maybe punch it—Kihyun would _love_ to do that. He’s tired of the way things keep twisting and turning, he’s lost all control over his life and emotions.

It’s nearing Christmas and he feels anxious because it’ll be his first Christmas without his dad, he’ll spend it alone in his new flat. He hates to think about that. And he’s going to fail one of his classes because he has lost his inspiration... Life is getting tiring and he can’t focus on photography and what he loves. There’s this tiredness that covers him like a blanket and he can’t push himself to go outside after classes and walk around the city to snap some pictures, like he used to do in the past, and these days his brain feels like it’s filled with cotton candy rather than with a working organ. He can’t focus on anything, it’s _infuriating_. And it’s scary. He’s terrified. He has heard of depression, it ran in his family, he’s scared he might develop it as well. He’s been thinking about visiting a therapist lately, as a prevention, but he doesn’t even know where to begin with that. So he doesn’t do anything.

Kihyun is walking up to the building he lives in, his messenger bag around his shoulder, camera in hand, the display showing an older picture. He tried to take pictures as he walked home from university, but nothing appealed to him, nothing seemed worthy—nothing made sense. He looked at older pictures to try to remember _what_ he took pictures of, _why_ he took pictures, but it didn’t really reach him. With a sigh he unlocks the entrance door, pushing it open with his shoulder. Once inside he puts the camera into his messenger back and walks over to the post boxes, a letter peaking out (most likely publicity). He’s about to walk up the stairs when he hears someone laughing, the sound of it echoing down to where he stands, and his heart almost leaps out of his chest. He knows that laugh, he misses it, sometimes.

Kihyun wants to disappear. He looks around, frantically searching for a spot he could hide in—maybe become one with the wall if the shadows provided enough coverage—but he doesn’t quite make it in time and he sees Jooheon and Hoseok walk down the stairs, mid conversation. Kihyun stands there, by the post boxes, like a deer caught in headlight, eyes on Jooheon, who returns the glance as soon as he notices that someone is there.

“Ah, Kihyun, hi,” Hoseok says, unaware of the tension. Kihyun has been vague about why him and Jooheon don’t talk anymore, but Hoseok didn’t care much, used to their fights from high school, he didn’t question it anymore. “How are you?” he asks once the two of them stand in the hallway, too.

Jooheon looks away from Kihyun, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it. He’s biting his bottom lip and wears a frown.

“I’ve been doing better,” Kihyun admits, eyes returning towards Hoseok.

“Right, yeah—I’m sorry.” He looks embarrassed. “If you ever need anything, you’re more than welcome to come knocking at my door.”

“Thank you.” He tries to shoot his friend a grateful smile, put some warmth and appreciation in it, but he’s _so tired_. He realizes just how taxing smiling has become. “Well, I’ll be going.” He vaguely motions at the staircase and Hoseok nods.

“Of course. See you, Kihyun.”

“Yeah, see you.” He glances at Jooheon but the younger still has his eyes glued to his phone’s screen.

* * *

  

It’s New Year’s Eve and Hoseok is gone to his parents, just like Hyunwoo has. Hyungwon is with Minhyuk at a private dinner party, so Jooheon is all alone this time. Changkyun sadly couldn’t come, but it’s alright. Jooheon can still make the best out of it. It’s not sad or pathetic that he spends New Year’s Eve alone, plenty of people do. He’ll watch some TV and when midnight comes around he’ll go up to the rooftop and watch the fireworks, maybe open a can of beer or something. He could look up different new year traditions from around the world and try some of those to pass the time.

It’s eight already and Jooheon decides to hit the groceries shop before it closes. He buys snacks and drinks, and as he passes by the fruit and vegetable section he spots a bundle of small, green grapes. He’s read about some tradition in Spain, where they eat them at midnight, twelve in total. It strikes him as a funny tradition and, as the grapes are on sale, he decides to buy a bundle.

When the time comes and it’s twenty minutes before the new year starts, Jooheon grabs his thickest and fluffiest hoodie, the grapes, a beer, and a bunch of sparklers to light while he watches the fireworks. He walks up the stairs leading to the rooftop, pulling out his keys to open the door—it’s a rule that during winter it’s locked since it barely gets used, and to avoid the cold from getting inside the building—but to his surprise it’s already unlocked. He frowns and pushes it open, most of the residents were away on some vacation with their families or going to the town hall, where most of the residents went to celebrate.

He doesn’t see anyone once he’s outside, it’s just pitch black darkness, the city lights the only source of light but it’s a weak one as Jooheon can’t even see his hands if he were to hold them up in front of his face. At least not until his eyes adjust to the darkness. He walks over to the edge of the rooftop, the night view of the skyline is beautiful—he can make out his university in the distance, the park close by, the city center where the lights are brighter—and he sets down his objects on the floor, folding his arms over the railing of the rooftop and stares for a while. There’s a cold breeze blowing, messing up his hair. It’s nice.

When there’s only mere minutes before midnight he opens the can of beer and prepares the grapes. It’s then when he sees a shadow move in the distance.

“Who’s there?” he asks, squinting his eyes to distinguish the figure better.

He’s met with silence but then the person approaches. They’re dressed in sweatpants, a big blanket wrapped around their shoulders and head. As closer as they get the more Jooheon recognizes them. It’s Kihyun. He looks sick and tired.

“Hey,” the older greets him, his voice raspy. “I hoped you wouldn’t see me but I guess now that you have, do you mind if I sit with you?”

“No, it’s—it’s fine,” Jooheon replies, frowning at the sad figure Kihyun makes. “Are you okay?”

“Mostly. But I have a fever right now.”

“What the _fuck_ are you doing outside then? You should be in your bed and rest,” Jooheon protests, worry filling him but then he remembers what their relationship is now; he shouldn’t be worried. He shouldn’t even care.

Kihyun shoots him a look. He’s frowning at him but then he lets out a sigh. “You’re right. I should be in bed.” With that he leaves, his blanket, where it’s too long, getting dragged behind him on the dirty rooftop floor. Jooheon watches him leave.

After Kihyun opens the rooftop door he lets it fall shut behind him, the sound of the fireworks signalizes the start of the new year behind Jooheon, but it takes him a moment to realize that, he’s still too caught up on Kihyun’s presence—like a ghost apparition or something.

(He ends up eating the grapes, even if he missed his chance to try out the Spanish tradition. He lights some sparklers and watches them with a strange, detached sort of sadness as the fireworks light up the sky in the background.) 

* * *

 

Jooheon has been having a not so good day, in between his classes dragging out until almost 10pm and his professor assigning them a major project due to two months from now—plus all the other essays he has to write and the exams coming up, stress just _consumes_ him—and having an early shift tomorrow at the bakery where he part times means he won’t have that much sleep, and he’s the kind of person to get cranky if he doesn’t get at least six hours of sleep. It’s way past eleven now and he still has to eat dinner, do the laundry and hang the previous one up on the roof—during spring and summer the residents can hang their stuff up there as long the weather permits it, but during winter there’s a room by the rooftop entrance where they hang their laundry to dry.

He drags his legs up the stairs of the building, his shoulders hurting from all the stress throughout the day and the tiredness that manifests itself as an invisible weight on his back, heavier than anything else in life. It’s not as if life isn’t good but it constantly feels like something is missing, or rather something isn’t quite right and like it should be, but he can’t figure out _what_ it is. It feels like someone gave him a puzzle when he moved here, telling him he _must_ build it so he can grow, but as he’s putting the pieces together he realizes there are some missing. And he can’t find them because he doesn’t even know what they look like or where he has lost them. It’s infuriating.

(If he’s honest he just wants to throw the puzzle into the trashcan and never deal with his emotions ever again.)

He reaches the floor where he and Hoseok live, the door of his flat only a couple of feet away, and he can already savor the sweetness of finally being home and able to shed himself from all walls he keeps up all day so he can manage through it, he can let go of it all in the flat—Hoseok knows he sometimes has his days where life gets hard and he feels like he’s drowning again.

But he doesn’t get far, one of the doors opens and when Jooheon looks up he sees it’s the one to Kihyun’s flat. He straightens his back and tries to stand tall, the walls fortifying—the heaviness on his back increases and the pain in his shoulders grows, nearly unbearably so. Kihyun is holding a green plastic bag filled with trash, most likely on his way down to the garbage cans to dispose of it, but he stops in his tracks when his eyes meet Jooheon’s. He looks tired. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and looks incredibly _cosy_ ; Jooheon clenches his fists in anger as he thinks how there was a time they were comfortable enough with each other’s presences to allow themselves to be cosy without any of the pretenses up that they show to the world. There used to be a time where it felt like there was no need for walls and they could allow to be seen as they were by the other. Even if they never were more than friends they reached a sort of intimacy Jooheon never experienced with anyone, not even with Changkyun.

(But then it all broke because Kihyun was scared.)

As angry as the sight of Kihyun makes Jooheon, there’s this wish burning deep in his bones to make right their wrong, to fix what broke, but it’s a two way road, an agreement that means nothing if Kihyun doesn’t cooperate. Jooheon wants nothing more than to put this in his past. It’s pathetic, really, that he misses Kihyun; he shouldn’t go easy on him, shouldn’t be the first one to apologize, shouldn’t give Kihyun a free pass for what he said to Jooheon the previous year… But he really wants to make it right.

“You look tired,” Kihyun suddenly says, putting down the plastic back on the floor, and stares at him. Jooheon feels his skin starting to prickle. “I know that—that this isn’t my place to say but you should take better care of yourself.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it _isn’t_ your place to tell me that,” Jooheon bites back. “Plus, you look tired yourself. Maybe you should take your own advice.” Kihyun presses his lips together until his mouth is a thin line, his shoulders are tensed now and he’s got his fists balled up. It seems as if he wants to say something but can’t quite bring himself to do so. “You know, for a second I thought I could forgive you, but you’re so _fucking_ irritating.”

Kihyun scoffs. “Maybe I don’t want or need you forgiveness.”

“Really?” Jooheon feels angry, drowning in the weight on his shoulders and the stress surrounding his life, and he proceeds to shrug off his backpack. He takes a steps closer to the older boy, reaching out his arms to push him. Kihyun staggers backwards, surprised at Jooheon’s action. “You don’t think you should apologize?”

“Apologize for _what_?” Kihyun asks, eyes ablaze now, he looks just as angry as Jooheon feels, and he pushes the younger back.

“ _Seriously_ ,” Jooheon deadpans, incredulously. “Do you not remember what you said to me? Do you have any idea how that made me feel?”

Something like guilt flickers through Kihyun’s eyes but it’s gone quick enough and he simply pushes Jooheon again, but Jooheon doesn’t really register it anymore. He doesn’t really feel present anymore, his mind going back years to when they first met and fought on the school’s basketball court; how they got at each other’s throats easily because they knew what buttons to push—because they shared so many similarities that it was easy to know how to get a raise out of the other, but as well how to comfort each other. Jooheon feels stupid then, they are fighting just like they did years ago, as if they didn’t learn anything. He knows he doesn’t really want to fight but life is making him easily irritable, and he knows Kihyun doesn’t want to fight either.

(Kihyun might seem like someone angry and ready to snap back and be petty, but Jooheon knows he isn’t, he is someone caring and incredibly vulnerable.)

Jooheon lets out a sigh, his mind slowing down and returning to his body, and he looks at Kihyun, who has all his walls up but Jooheon broke through them once and he can do it again. They shouldn’t be fighting, not anymore, they could fix this issue, he knows they both want to. He reaches out his hand and grabs a fistful of Kihyun’s t-shirt, who lets out a surprised yelp, and drags him to the door that leads to the rooftop, pushing it open with his free hand.

“Wait, what—what are you doing?” Kihyun asks but Jooheon ignores him, pushing him through the door.

 

Jooheon pushes Kihyun up the stairs, ignoring his protests. The door to the building's rooftop is opened and Kihyun peaks part of the starry sky. Once outside he shivers at the cold breeze and rubs his bare arms, swirling around to face Jooheon—dressed in his oversized black hoodie he doesn’t seem to notice how cold it is. Jooheon looks conflicted, confusion and anger flashing through his eyes, but more than anything he seems unsure. Kihyun has an inkling about what it might be, he hopes he is right, but he’s _terrified_ that he might be wrong.

“What the _fuck_ do you want?” he demands to know. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and shoots the younger an expectant look. “Come on, talk then; why did you drag me up here in  the middle of the _fuc_ _king_ night? I have an 8am class tomorrow.” He huffs out an annoyed breath to accentuate his words, and make sure Jooheon knows he kind of resents him for bringing him up here right now.

Behind Jooheon is the door of the rooftop, slowly closing, and behind that stretches out the view of the skyline, the city lights twinkling magically; it would make a beautiful shot and Kihyun's fingers tingle with the need to take a picture of Jooheon, like so often in the past. But that's not their relationship anymore; he can't just take a picture of Jooheon, not anymore, no matter how much he wishes to do so.

Jooheon's hair moves with the breeze, his eyes are wide and puppy like, and he's wringing his hands together nervously. He opens his mouth and closes it again, fear shooting through his eyes, and lowers his head to stare at the beige colored ground of the rooftop. Kihyun lets out a sigh.

“ _Jooheon_ ,” Kihyun says, tone sharp, and the boy flinches at the mention of his name. His head snaps up to look at Kihyun now. “Why did you drag me up here now?” he asks, this time a lot softer.

Jooheon exhales shakily.

“I guess I was tired of us being _ghosts_ to one another,” he finally replies, it's mumbled but Kihyun understands the words; the meaning with which Jooheon says them makes him frown. “We were—All these times we bumped into each other in the hallway or by the post boxes, it's—it's been hard not to think about our past. About _us_.”

“You _hate_ me. Or you should. I broke your _heart_ ,” he spits out. Jooheon looks at him now with anger. The hesitance is gone and that fire that Kihyun got to know when they first met is back now. Jooheon looks angry, but pained as well. “Why do you keep chasing me?”

“I know your words were lies back then. I've known all this time. Why won't you _allow_ yourself some happiness?” Jooheon shoots back, taking a step forward.

Kihyun thinks back to when they first met, much like this, shouting at each other with their fists clenched and ready to swing—until one day one of them did.

“You know _nothing_.” It's a lie. Jooheon knows he hit a sensitive topic there and he clings onto it; and Kihyun gets why. It’s the one wall standing in between them.

But that wall—the fear of who he really is—has been there his whole life, Jooheon has only been there for barely four years. He can't just let it fall like that, just because Jooheon asks him to.

“I know enough.” He doesn't come closer, he stays back, turning around to look at the city lights, and lets out a humorless laugh. “God, Kihyun, look at us. Still fighting, over the same things even." He is quiet for a while, just staring at the city lights, and Kihyun just stares at him. "I called you _pretty boy_ back then; do you want to know why?” he asks after a while, out of the blue, not bothering to look at Kihyun.

Kihyun decides to approach him, stand next to him to look at the city lights together. Oddly enough the anger and frustration he felt seconds ago is gone, and maybe—just _maybe_ —it really is only an old defense mechanism. Maybe he isn’t that angry anymore, he doesn't feel like it; but his confrontation with Jooheon was based on old issues he is still working on overcoming, and it is easy to fall into the same patterns as he did as a teenager, as a child. He isn't _actually_ angry at Jooheon, neither was he at sixteen.

“Okay, tell me,” he answers Jooheon's question; he always did wonder why Jooheon threw those words at him, while being himself a victim of those very same words. It always struck him as peculiar.

“My uncle used to call me that—mockingly. My parents never called me that but they did hate me, they expressed it in other ways. Some bullies at school called me that. So many people did, and it _hurt_ ,” he starts explaining, his face is blank but Kihyun sees the marks this pain has left in Jooheon's eye bags; in the small scar on his cheek and the other one of his jaw; in the way he grabs the railing separating them from the abyss underneath, his knuckles turning white. “I felt bad that night, after I called you that. But during that moment I felt powerful, I felt as if for a second I was on their side—or rather, they were on mine. For a moment I wasn't the one getting that word thrown at, but I had the choice to throw it at someone else. And I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have become one of them.” He looks at the city lights in front of them, his face no longer blank; the more he lets go of the railing the more he allows his face to cloud with emotions. Until he is crying.

Kihyun stands still, not sure what he is supposed to do. The situation is strange at it is, all of it. From them becoming friends almost four years ago to now—none of it really makes sense. But there they are, on that damned rooftop, again trusting each other and spilling their hearts. Kihyun finally lets go of his hesitance, of his doubt and fears and hugs Jooheon.

“I'm sorry for what I said last year,” he mumbles into Jooheon's shoulder. The younger smells of the fresh air all around them and his signature perfume—it's a pleasant smell to Kihyun in that moment and he digs his face further into Jooheon's hoodie. “I really am sorry.”

He cries, too, now. All of what he's been holding back since he was a young teenager finally breaking apart; that wall crumbling. _It’s_ _okay_ , he thinks. It’s okay to let the wall fall, he doesn't need to constantly have it put up—especially now with Jooheon—and he can allow himself to look over it and see what's on the other side. He can _allow_ himself to be on the other side. Now he does.

They're crying but Jooheon pulls away briefly, sniffling. “I'm sorry, too,” he says, searching Kihyun's face.

“It's fine,” Kihyun says. It will be.

“ _Truce_?” Jooheon asks, reaching out his hand, a small smile on his face. He looks a lot more mature than the first time he offered Kihyun that word; his hair is dark now and longer than it used to be, his skin is a lot smoother, and his face is sharper. He's grown more handsome. But the hesitance, the hope, it's the same as the first time.

Kihyun laughs and takes the hand. “ _Truce_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof SO TRUCE !!
> 
> fun fact: the first tattoo i ever got was the word truce lmao
> 
> (ps: hi so.. the next updates might be slower because i'm moving countries soon and i need to find a flat and a job and apply to art school or something, etc etc etc so i won't have that much time to write ://)

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/dramarama_mv) hehe💛


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